Like I Imagined
Chapter 2: Tea and Raindrops
The muted midmorning light of an overcast sky filtered into the dress room through drawn pink curtains, just barely bright enough to make things visible. Rarity glared through her fancy glasses as if she were interrogating the article upon the table: The jacket. It was a good jacket, yes, but its goodness had been... Thoroughly exploited. Several rips along the sides and inner arms were roughly stitched back together, she assumed by the stallion to whom it belonged. The khaki canvas had frayed and faded after years of use, and even if it did carry the faint, oddly reassuring scent of apples and hay... No. This was an article of clothing, and she was a lady of the cloth. She simply could not allow such an old and battered garment to go unrepaired. Her horn glowed. A needle, a measuring tape, and several spools of thread floated into the air. She adjusted her glasses with a hoof.
"Let's do this," She said quietly, sounding more like a gladiator than a fashionista.
Caramel stopped outside, head tilted in curiosity, as the clatter of metal and the whine of an impact driver rang from the Carousel Boutique.
Three hours later, it was done. Well, sort of. The table now held two jackets, the new addition made from a finer, more durable brown canvas. Leather lined the pockets and the back of the collar, and padded the shoulders. Small adjustable straps had been added to the cuffs, and every pouch was held closed by a fashionably tarnished brass button. It was different given her usual designs, but when she declared the older jacket irredeemable, making the new one fancy and embroidered simply did not mesh in her mind, not even in the amount she had used for Applejack's 'dress'. So she created this. It was simple and rugged, especially by her standards, but it still had a focus on form. It just felt... Right, to her. Content enough with her work, she nodded, and magically folded the two of them into a waiting pair of saddlebags.
The sky was still grey when she stepped outside. She frowned ever-so-slightly as she thought of Rainbow Dash. The tomcoltish pegasus was likely still asleep after last night's events: As active and party-crazed as she was, her fatigue was bound to be terrible when it struck. Still, it didn't seem as though it were going to rain, thank Celestia.
"Hi there!" Pinkie Pie chirped from behind Rarity. An accomplishment, considering that the unicorn was still on her doorstep.
Rarity started with a small squeal. "Pinkie Pie! How in equestria did you-"
"The stairs, silly!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed before her attention snapped to her friend's sides. "What's in the bags?" She grinned, reaching a curious hoof towards the left one's flap. Rarity stopped it with one of her own.
"It's a delivery to Ma- A customer." Why did she avoid his name? She shifted uncomfortably. "They were supposed to pick it up, but it's getting late and I have free time." She gave her best innocent grin, just to be safe.
"Oooh," The pink pony craned her neck towards the bags, as if getting closer to them would help her see through the fabric. "Okie-dokie!" She grinned again after a moment. "Well, have fun with that! Watch out for the rain!"
"But it's not raining," Rarity corrected, but Pinkie Pie was already gone, bouncing from the stairs and down the road while singing a lively rendition of the pony pokey. Rarity stood there for a moment, blinking.
"Pinkie Pie," She shrugged, and started on her way.
The now dark sky gave Sweet Apple Acres a weathered, melancholy feel that matched the chipped whitewash and the splintering boards of the Apple family farmhouse, and the rustle and creak of the orchard in the wind only added to the atmosphere. A small spot of cold and wet on Rarity's nose and the subtle pattering that faded into hearing confirmed her fears and Pinkie Pie's then-strange warning: Rain was imminent.
"How does she manage- Eep!" She started as another drop hit her flank and trotted as gracefully as she could on rough gravel towards the farmhouse. The pattering phased into a pouring, as though the clouds were buckets being gradually tipped.
"Oh my," Rarity gave a panicked mutter, increasing her pace to a gallop. "Oh my oh my oh my oh my oh my oh my." Just barely escaping the wall of water that crashed and beat upon the porch awning she was now under, she sighed with relief and checked herself. Mane, fur and tail were all largely untouched, though an amount of dust from the road had accumulated on her hooves. After doing her best to brush it off on the well-worn doormat, she reached forward and gave the door a very dainty, very ladylike-
Applejack opened the door. "Are ya gonna come in, sister, or do y'all want another five minutes to pertify yerself in the rain?"
"I was just about to knock," Rarity frowned.
"Well, it's about time," The earth pony grinned. "C'mon in before ya catch somethin'."
Rarity gave an obliged nod and stepped inside. The inside of the house was much fresher-looking than its exterior, although the constant wear of four tenants certainly showed. Heirloom furniture occupied the living room, worn from a once-elegant sheen to a rough country aesthetic. The hardwood floor was almost irreparably scuffed and battered, and the startlingly old-fashioned wallpaper was cracked and peeled in places that the Apple family probably hoped its guests wouldn't notice. It was hardly her choice of decor, but it was all very...
"Quaint," The unicorn said, in a tone that very heavily implied that one was trying to be nice.
"Well t'aint no fancy mansion, princess, but it's home," Applejack closed the door behind her. "But anyhow. What brings y'all all the way out ta my neck of the woods, sugarcube?"
"I had some work to do on something of your brother's," Rarity gestured with a nod towards her saddlebags, "And I decided to go ahead and deliver it myself. The storm caught me rather off-guard."
"Shoot, Big Macintosh has an interest in clothin'? An' here I thought he was the one with two sisters." Applejack chuckled to herself. "Glad ya stopped by when ya did, though. This here storm ain't scheduled to clear up for a while accordin' to Dash."
"Lovely," The unicorn frowned. Apparently her friend had been awake, and had simply neglected to mention an imminent and terrible downpour.
"Now don't y'all go frettin' yerself outta those lovely curls, missy," Applejack wandered into the living room. "I know we've got an umbrella 'round here somewheres. Mac's upstairs, y'all go ahead and take care of his... Whatever, an' I'll see 'bout gettin' ya home in time."
"Thank you," Rarity gave a surprised little smile, and started for the hallway.
"Don't mention it," Applejack replied while rummaging through a nearby cabinet. "I get stir crazy in a storm anyhow. Oh, an' watch out fer-"
A crack of thunder blasted from close outside the farmhouse. The lights went out.
"That," The orange pony looked at the now-nonfunctioning chandelier in resignation.
Without any power, the windowless hallway was pitch dark, and if Rarity actually believed in ghosts, it likely would have been spooky. After bumping painfully into an ornamental table and stepping on a total of four desperately old and creaky boards, she made it to the stairway. If she ever had the disposable income past her own lifestyle, she would definitely fix this place up. Not meaning to step on any tails, but it seemed to be falling apart at the seams. The hallway below lit up and a southern-accented cry of relief sounded a few rooms away as she turned up the second half of the flight. That was exactly what she was talking about. That couldn't be too hard to fix. She probably knew a colt or two who could work with wiring and would do it for free at her request. And also... Wait, was that jazz?
The unicorn had reached the top of the stairwell. With her ears perked and her attention focused, she could just barely hear sounds coming from a room down the upper-story hallway. A piano, a bass, a trumpet, each playing slow, relaxing melodies... Alicorns, it was jazz. Following its sound, she came to a door that was left slightly open. And, taking a deep breath in anticipation, she opened it further.
A simple, iron-framed bed sat in the near-right corner. At the middle of the far wall was an old desk, directly to the left of a small bookshelf and directly under a window that overlooked the orchard. But that was not what caught her attention. What caught her attention was the record player, still playing, its volume set low. Next to it was an open closet, which contained a variety of odds and ends, including boots and a number of shirts. Chambray, flannel, corduroy, each of them long-sleeved and high quality. Much like the new jacket in her bag, they were simple in style and material but telling of a unique sort of underlying class. A single hanger hung bare and separate from the rest. She glanced around the room. No-one else was there at the moment. She shouldn't be either. But she was, and her curiosity was beginning to get the best of her.
"Maybe just a little look," She mumbled reassuringly, and turned to examine the rest of the room.
The bed was neatly made, and oddly small-looking considering its owner. Moving on to the bookshelf, she saw it was filled with rows of books whose spines she couldn't quite read in the dim light from the window. The middle shelf contained something else entirely, however: A pair of cylindrical, handleless cups made from a fine reddish clay, decorated with a thick tan stripe and a minimalist painting of a blooming plum tree across the middle. She placed them as being part of a tea set, though a different sort than she was used to, and one currently without a pot. She studied them for a moment in the gloom before turning to the desk. A familiar lantern and an old clock stood on one end, while an old dark metal typewriter sat at the other.
"Goodness, this thing is an antique," She murmured to herself.
"Eyyyup," Macintosh said from the doorway.
Rarity turned around, tail dropped and ears set back in horror. "Oh my! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be in here, but I heard the music and I was curious and I- Oh heavens, I'm so sorry!"
"S'alright," The stallion gave a sleepy-eyed blink. "I'm the one that left it open." He bent to pick up the red clay teapot that was currently hanging from the doorknob. Steam drifted from its spout.
"Alright," Rarity smiled reluctantly, still mortified. She moved over to the empty corner of the bedroom to let him move.
Macintosh set the teapot on the desk. "Seems like you made it home alright."
"Yes," She nodded, then looked back at her bags. "A-actually, that's why I'm here. Your jackets are done, and I-"
"Jackets?" The red pony raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, right," Rarity gave another smile. "Well, you see, I noticed your old one was really worn down, so I thought about fixing it, but it turned out it was too far-gone for me to really redeem in any meaningful way, so I went ahead and made a new one for you." She panted a little, having explained herself quite hurriedly.
Macintosh gave an understanding nod. "Where's the new one?"
Rarity craned her neck back and unclasped the saddlebag on her right, pulling the new jacket from it as carefully as she could and handing it to the stallion. He took it, laid it out on the bed, and stared at it. Then slowly, he reared to his hind legs and put it on.
"What do you think?" She asked hopefully. He didn't respond. The smell of tea was beginning to fill the room. Earl grey, she noted.
Finally, he looked up at her. "S'great," He nodded. A smile formed at the edge of his lips.
"I'm glad you like it!" She grinned, relieved. "Of course, I figured you'd still want the old one, so I brought it as well."
Macintosh frowned in thought for a moment. "Toss it," He decided.
"Are you sure?" Rarity blinked in surprise. "I mean, it is a good jacket."
"Eyyyup," Macintosh agreed. "S'also been through more things than I can count. 'Sides," He raised his shoulders, shifting the fabric of his new jacket. "This one's nicer, and I don't make a habit of keepin' what I don't need."
"If you insist," Rarity glanced back at the other, still-full bag. The weight was a little awkward now.
Macintosh shrugged the new jacket off and hung it up in the closet. "Sorry for not stoppin' by," He glanced back. "We were gettin' things squared. Your pegasus friend only had time to tell us 'bout the storm before she left." He turned and looked out the rain-spattered window. "S'not as bad as she was makin' it out to be."
"Still too bad to walk through, though," Rarity watched as water washed down the glass. "Even with an umbrella. I'm rather stuck here until it passes, t'would seem."
"Not the worst place to be stuck, I hope," He gave a small smile, and fetched the two cups from the middle shelf. "Tea?"
"Gladly," She nodded in thanks, taking the cup in her hoof after he filled it. The smell was subtle and relaxing, and in combination with the music she was briefly presented with the thought of a bare brick city loft. She took a sip. It was strong by her tastes, but not overpoweringly so. She couldn't help but sigh a little as she set the cup back down.
"Glad to see someone else likes tea," Macintosh took a sip from his own cup and sat at the foot of his bed. "Applejack hates it."
"Well, she's Applejack," Rarity gave a small, chuckle and sat next to him. "I'd expect that from her. Though I didn't expect this from you. For a country colt you're remarkably..."
"Civilized?" The stallion gave a small, deep chuckle.
"For lack of a better word," Rarity smiled in agreement.
"I wasn't always out here," Macintosh gestured with a nod towards the window.
"Oh?" The unicorn tilted her head in curiosity. "Do tell."
"I spent five years in Seaddle. Learned a good bit, tried a good bit more." He gave a nod to the typewriter. "This thing, for example."
"You write?" She asked.
"Not very well," He frowned and sipped his cup. "I just like keepin' it around, really. Also tried music, but, well, pianos are harder to move."
"I thought you said you don't like keeping things you don't need," She glanced curiously at the machine.
"That's different," He gave it a long, hard look. "S'a... Reminder."
"A reminder?" She tilted her head again. "Of what?"
Macintosh stared at the typewriter. Something subtle changed in his expression. "A lot of things," He said simply.
"I'm sorry," Rarity frowned, concerned. "I didn't mean to pry."
"S'alright," He repeated. "Was a long time ago, anyway." He paused and sipped. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Rarity blinked.
"A filly as classy and artistic as you?" Macintosh turned to her. "I'd expect you in Canterlot. What brought you out to the middle of nowhere?"
"Well, I wouldn't say artistic, but..." The unicorn blushed a little. "I-I don't know. I grew up here, and beyond taking some trips to the city I've never really had the compulsion to move away. All my friends are here, and I keep deciding the resources I'd need would be..." She trailed off, looking into his half-lidded green eyes as she attempted to think of the right phrase.
"Better for other things," Macintosh completed.
Rarity looked away and gave a short nod. "Exactly," She said.
Macintosh glanced at the window. The light outside had brightened considerably, and only the occasional drop of water sounded against the glass.
"Sounds like the worst of the storm's done," He said.
"Hm?" Rarity looked up. "Oh, right. I... Suppose I'd better get back to town, then. I'm behind as it is."
"Need any help gettin' back?" He offered.
"Oh no, that's quite alright," She smiled. "Your sister already volunteered, and I'd hate for that tea to go to waste." She handed her empty cup back to him, and he set it on the desk.
"Well," He said with a small smile. "Take care of yourself."
"Of course," She nodded and began to leave. She stopped at the doorway.
"This was very enjoyable," She turned her head back. "We... We should do it again sometime."
Macintosh looked at her for a moment. Something in his face gave the impression of thought.
"Sure," He nodded.
"Until next time, then," Rarity gave a curtsy, and left the room. Her heart was beating faster than usual, and despite her outward grace she felt as though every step was awkward and shaky. She took a deep breath as she reached the stairs. She was being ridiculous, and very unladylike. He was just a new friend, after all. She didn't even know that much about him.
"I don't even know that much about 'im," Applejack shrugged, causing the umbrella's harness to bounce a little. Rarity couldn't help but investigate through the stallion's sister on the trek home. "Real private, Mac is. He works hard, sometimes too hard, but whenever he's not workin', sleepin', sick, or hurt, he's goin' off on some kinda walk or 'nother. I ain't never seen him spend his share of the family profits. He gives half to help the farm an' squirrels the other half away fer nopony knows what."
"Well, I know he's reserved," Rarity stepped over a particularly large piece of gravel, "But he's never told you anything?"
"Nope," The earth pony shook her head. "Pop carted him off to some big city when I was jus' a foal, n' he came back when I was fifteen. Somethin' musta happened over there, I reckon. He warned me 'bout the city when I ran off to Manehattan, but he didn't much say why."
Rarity hm'd contemplatively.
"Why're y'all so interested in my brother all the sudden, anyhow?" Applejack raised an eyebrow.
Rarity tensed up at the question. "He just... Struck me as interesting, I suppose." She really needed to work on her improvisation.
"I guess?" Applejack glanced at her friend. "Usually he's just all plain an' sleepy-like, but sometimes he gets this look on his face like..."
"Like?" Rarity echoed.
"Like there's a bunch a' gears workin' in his noggin." Applejack frowned. "An' I don't much think I'd like to know what they're puttin' out."
"Why not?" Rarity looked over, concerned.
"'Cause when he gets like that, he looks darn near fifty." The earth pony shook her head. "T'ain't right for a colt to look twice his age."